TELL US MOREAPPEARANCE Travis is a fairly average looking guy. Average height and average build, no one would really look at him twice. Which was exactly how he liked it. Subtle and casual, he wears dark and ordinary clothing. T-Shirts, usually dark colors like navy and black, with dark blue jeans. His shoes are brown, sneakers, that always look a little worn. Travis' hair is a dark brown, nearly black, think, not too long, with some slight curls. His eyebrows are thick and well defined, often is a frown, sending a shadow over his colorless blue eyes. His jaw is well defined with a slightly rounded face. Travis looks nothing special, and prefers simply to go unnoticed.ALLIANCE A Survivor, merely trying to make it through these hard times.STARTING WEAPON Walther P99 Handgun. A small, black colored handgun that Travis has ended up with. Nothing special. He holsters it on his right hip, and he tries to avoid using it. Example of use:

"Shit, shit, shit!" Travis pants, his arms pumping up and down as he sprints down the long office corridor, cubicles and printers planted along the walls to both sides of him. His black leather jacket flaps behind him, his tattered shoes gently thumping against the hard, carpeted office floor. The messy dark hair atop his head waves about as he runs, the young man making an effort not to look behind him. He preferred not to get too intimate with what he was fighting. Well...maybe 'intimate' was the wrong word. Who could love these things? Travis grits his teeth as he nears the end of the bleak looking office corridor, a usual looking faded green doorway at he end. The room was completely dead, no electricity. The only light was from the Moon in the sky, casting in through the windows, making the abandoned offices looking eerie, if anything. Travis Parker slows his running a little, his speed not so necessary now that he was nearing his target. Yet... there were no noises coming from behind him. Without sounding stereotypical...Travis thought it a little too quiet...

...Slowing to a near stop, Travis reaches a hand out, moving to grab the door handle, and pull the door towards him. But, before he could reach it, a loud groan is heard. With a silent gasp, Travis withdraws his hand, and takes a step back, pausing. Were there more of them? Had he been flanked by these brain dead flesh eaters? Something grabs the door handle, making it rattle violently. Travis continues to take gentle steps backwards, his right hand reaching under his jacket, and slowly to his hip. His hand wraps around the hilt of his handgun, the old looking pistol that had served him well the last few years. He did his best to maintain it, but it looked battered to hell. Still steadily retreating, he pulls the Walther P99 from it's him, and raises it to the door, his left arm help by his side. The door rattles loudly once more...and then stops. Travis frowns, watching the door suspiciously. His right arm, outstretched and holding the pistol, relaxes a little, his elbow bending. "Hmm..." He mutters. "Maybe they gave up?".

Travis' eyes widen as he finishes speaking. A noise had made it's way to him. One that sent fear into him. A soft, hungry growl. Behind him. A sense of panic washes over him as footsteps begin to charge at him, the noise of a slobbering, hungry mouth getting closer. Closer and closer. Travis takes a deep breath, and turns, tightening his right arm again. He spins round, his right eye aligning with the pistols sight, and aiming at the foul, decomposing creature that was speedily lunging for him. The distance between them grew smaller and smaller. "Why can't you leave me alone?!" Travis yells, his index finger squeezing the guns cold metal trigger. A clicking is heard. Nothing. Travis' eyes go wide. "SHIT! The damn safety, every fucking time!" He yelps, his left hand flying up to flick the small switch on the guns left side. Sweat beads on his forehead as the monster begins to increase it's pace.

A loud bang echoes throughout the office, followed by a soft thud. The pistols barrel emits a small stream of smoke as the beast lands in a heap at Travis' feet. "Oh thank God..." Travis mutters, wiping his brow with his right sleeve. Examining the pistol, his left index finger flicks the safety back on before he holsters it back where it came from. A sigh escapes him as he closes his eyes...

...The door handle rattles.

HISTORY Born in Edinburgh, Travis lived a relatively normal life. In school, he was considered a prodigy, but by the age of 7, all hopes of that had faded into his lazy attitude and unwillingness to learn. He's much rather draw pictures. In high school, he found an ability to fix and tinker with things, usually in electronics. Graduating high school, Travis then went to University to study Electronic Engineering, although art was still his real passion. Always a realist, he merely stated he couldn't make a living from art. Before he could graduate from University, the world seemed to go down the drain. His life was ripped apart by what was happening around him. Travis merely disappeared after his school was infected, and slaughtered, his friends torn apart in front of him. He blames himself for not doing more, and so vanished, many assuming he'd killed himself. Travis in fact locked up, trying to keep himself alive for reasons he resented. After a little while, he decided to see if he could track down his family, and some remaining friends, and left his hiding place to make his way to London.SECRETS Travis' first love was butchered a few years back by 'zombies'. He never talks about it.DREAMS A big dreamer, Travis always wanted to drive across the USA, preferably in some classic muscle car. However, with events spoiling that dream, Travis now wishes for an average life, a life he once denied before.STRENGTHS Travis has always been a quick thinker, but instead of applying himself to work, or studies, he tends to laze around, often doodling into random sketch books. His creativity helps him formulate some rather ingenious plans and strategies, his quick thinking and creative personality making him a brilliant tactician. Travis is also a very fast runner, faster than average.WEAKNESSES Although fast, Travis is not a strong man, and isn't a great physical fighter. His aim with a gun is good, but not great. Travis also lacks bravery, and can sometimes seem a little scared.HABITS Sighing is the one he does most, the point of annoyance. He can often be found drawing random pictures into a sketch book he carries, and rarely shows to anyone. If he starts to bite his nails, it's clear he's panicking. Travis also has a bad habit of closing his eyes when he thinks.PERSONALITY Travis is a very smart and observant person, although you might not think of it to look at him. He comes off as very lazy and apathetic, which in many ways, he is. Usually complaining and muttering sarcastic comments, Travis is happiest by himself, usually asleep, or left to his own devices, doodling away in his sketch pad.